No One Bites Back As Hard On Their Anger
by TheFoxInWhite
Summary: Roy wants to blame it on the alcohol, but it means just a little more to Jason. onesided!Jason/Roy Joy , PG-15


**Title:** No One Bites Back As Hard On Their Anger

**Author:** Foxy

**Rating:** PG-15

**Character(s):** Jason Todd, Roy Harper

**Warning(s):** language, slash, reference to sex

**A/N:** Characters belong to DC Comics

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><p>Jason's hands are hot, rough, like vices around his wrists as he pins them back against the wall. His eyes glare, they plead, they curse, emotions roiling in the teal depths like hurricane tossed waters. His mouth is in a scowl but there's a sad twist to it, an underlying grief that makes Roy flinch his gaze away, turning his face to the side. The wall is cool under his cheek, and hard against his back. Jason pushed him back with force, and his spine throbs from where it collided with the drywall.<p>

"Admit it," Jason growls. He's not drunk anymore. The kiss marks – the fucking /bites/ - are still prominent on his neck and collarbone, visible where the stretched neckline dips low. They make Roy's stomach churn with something he can't name. He wants to call it disgust, shame, but it's not bitter enough to be labeled so.

Fingers tighten around his wrists, laying over bruises already formed, darkening them further; they'll last longer, a constant reminder of Roy's fuck up. He didn't want this. He swears he never wanted this but it happened, he did it, with /Jason/, and Jason can't let it go.

Jason leans in, face hard and angry but sad, and hisses "Admit it," again, alcohol tinged morning breath spilling over Roy's cheekbone.

Roy shakes his head, mouth thinning into an unhappy line. "Nothing to admit, Todd," he spits back. He can't look at Jason, can't stand to see his face right now. Not when it makes him feel so strangely.

"You're a fucking liar, Harper," Jason says. "You did it. You let me do it to you and you liked it."

"Cheap fucking booze," Roy shoots back. "Dumbass mistake and it's not going to happen again. Everyone does stupid shit when they're plastered."

The pressure on his wrist increases as Jason uses them to balance his weight when he leans close, speaking directly in Roy's ear. "It's happened twice already. You gonna try and tell me there ain't going to be a third?"

Roy fights not to squirm at the warm breath tickling his ear. "Never. Again."

Fingers going cold, numb, Jason squeezes Roy's wrists harder. Roy keeps himself from wincing, from fighting the grip. He's not weaker than Jason; in arm strength he's probably superior but he doesn't want to get into a fight with the other right now – he tells himself it's because he doesn't have the energy, and not because he doesn't want to be that close to Jason, doesn't want to be touching him.

"Is that what you told yourself every time you stuck a fucking needle in your arm and shot yourself up with heroin?"

Jason says it to get a rise out of him. Roy knows he does, and Jason knows that Roy knows. And Roy shouldn't react, because it's in the past. He's clean now and he's never going back to that shit ever again. But Jason says it, and Roy can't not react.

"Fuck you, Todd!" he lashes out, turning to finally glare at Jason and yes, there it is, the satisfaction glinting in his eyes. "You don't fucking know anything about me so just get the hell away from me and fuck off!"

"I know you enough /Roy/, to know that you like taking it up the ass." Jason's grin is mean and feral. He's still trying to get a reaction out of Roy, trying to work him up and make him physically lash out. It shouldn't be working, but it is.

Roy pushes back against Jason's grip, not enough to full dislodge it but enough to jolt Jason. "I'm not fucking gay!" he snarls. "I'm straight, you fucking asshole, get it through your head!"

"That's bullshit!" Jason is pissed. He's pissed and underneath that there's hurt, but Roy doesn't let himself acknowledge that. If he does he's going to feel guilt, and if he lets himself feel anything but shame and anger then the other emotions are going to flood in and overwhelm him; the kind of emotions that wear at him, tell him that he is lying to himself. But he's not. He's not lying to himself because he's not gay, he's straight.

"You let me fuck you, Harper." Jason says, suddenly quiet and there's danger in every line of his body. "You _wanted_ me to fuck you. You threw yourself at me and all but begged me like some kind of slut. You wanted it and you fucking _loved_ it. You can't tell me different."

Roy's shaking his head through it all, denying everything Jason says. "I was drunk," he tries to explain. "I was drunk and horny as hell. Of course I'm going to just throw myself at the nearest person. It doesn't mean I'm _gay_. I was just desperate."

The instant Roy says it he wants to take it back, because something in Jason's face shifts and the walls come crashing down. He's not pissed anymore, he's shut down, by default putting up his 'fuck the world' bravado. "What the fuck ever, Harper." Jason says. He pulls his hands away and steps back.

Roy bites his tongue – hard – in punishment, until he tastes iron in his mouth. He shouldn't have said that. He really shouldn't have said that because he knows how little Jason thinks of himself. Always the second best, always the last resort. Never actually wanted, just the one people turn to when they're _desperate_ like Roy just told him.

_Fucking idiot_ Roy calls himself. Out loud he says, "Jason," the anger drained from his voice. He steps away from the wall but Jason is already turning away from him.

"Whatever," he says again, quietly. He believes everyone would be better off without him, and Roy just helped reaffirm that.

"Jason come on I didn't-" Roy is cut off by a fist to the mouth, because he tried to rest his hand on Jason's shoulder and turn him around. Jason's knuckles slam into his jaw and cut his lip on his bottom tooth, sending Roy back against the wall.

"Just a little fact of interest for you," Jason says, his voice cutting and hollow like the needles Roy used to jab into the flesh of his arms. "The second time, I wasn't drunk. I was sober enough to know exactly what I wanted and I got to have it. Or at least I thought I did."

Cradling his aching jaw, Roy looks at Jason through bleary eyes. Anything he might say is caught in his throat, lodged there by the tone of Jason's voice and the almost dead look on his face.

"I really should be used to not getting a damn thing that I want," Jason finishes, and turns away again.

This time, Roy doesn't try to stop him.


End file.
